


Landis

by haisai_andagii



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haisai_andagii/pseuds/haisai_andagii
Summary: Drace wakes up from her coma a year after the end of the Archadian Occupation.





	

Her mother’s fingertips - slick with eksir berry oil - massaged the pauldron straps. Drace sighed, listening to the soft creaking of leather echoing in their tiny room.   The oil smelled of the sandsea – the heady scent of briny earth baked by the golden warmth of the Yensa sun.

 

The glass panes rattled in the splintered wooden frame as a skystone taxi soared by the windows of their tiny flat. It shadow cast in the early summer light, rippled along the planes of her legs where Drace sat on the floor. She yawned

 

There was not much to their home. Mama’s sewing station occupied the space beneath the main window. The kitchen and the dining room were one in the same - furnished with a wood burning stove, a sink, and a table with a few well-worn chairs. Their only dishes sat atop of it.

 

The kettle began to whine.

 

“Fetch that,” her mother said, wetting her fingertips with the fresh oil. “…my _Judge_...”

 

Drace look up and saw her mother smiling down at her - the lines on the corner of her eyes and mouth crinkled softly. As she attempted to return the gesture, a sudden spark of needling pain blossomed in the middle of her chest. Drace gasped and clutched at her breast, her hand coming away wet with blood. She heaved, clutching at the front of her blouse as crimson bloomed like flowers across the starch linen. She gasped, gulping down huge mouthfuls of air as hot liquid began to fill her lungs.

 

She clenched her teeth tightly, sinking to the ground on her knees. Her mother continued oiling her leather, indifferent to her daughter as she lay dying.

 

“The kettle, Drace!” she chided, still beaming at her as if nothing where wrong.

 

Drace parted her lips, letting out one final, wild gasp and then---

 

~~~

 

Drace sat up sharply. She drew in deep, gasping breath after breath, blinking furiously as she tried to clear the whorl color swimming across her sight.

 

It was then she realized her was holding something soft. Drace look down at her tightly balled fists and saw a quilted duvet spread across her waist. Slowly, she pushed it aside, her fingers moving to pull at the cotton nightgown that she was dressed in.   Drace clutched at her chest. Her hand was clean.

 

The lilting tweeting of a songbird caught hold of her ear, pulling Drace from her reverie.  She looked up and noticed that there was an open window.

 

The room was simple – both in its design and décor. There were several quilts draped across her bed, over her legs and underneath her. They were rustic – a topstitched patchwork tapestry depicting the changing seasons. Her fingers lingered on the pair of young boys, making war in a wintery landscape.

 

A white ceramic jug sat in a silver washbasin - several clean strips of linen slung over its side. Some were still damn – recently used.   Slowly, she tilted her head toward her shoulder, taking in the scent of lavender and water.

 

The bird twittered again – its song coming from the sill.

 

Drace pushed the blankets off of her and onto the floor. Gingerly, she inched herself to the edge of the bed and lowered her legs over the side. Her knees buckled as she made to stand, forcing her to lean hard onto the mattress.

 

“Tea is ready.”

 

It was a man.  His voice was gentle but firm.

 

Whomever he called out to made no reply. There were a faintly clatter of metal and the rustling of rough cloth. She heard footfalls coming nearer, stopping short underneath of her window.

 

Drace drew a deep breath, clutching at the front her nightgown. She pushed herself back onto unsteady feet, letting her body sway until it found equilibrium. She took a step and then another and another, ignoring the pain as she made her way over to the window in search of her mysterious caretakers.

 

She pulled herself onto the loveseat just under the windowsill. Slightly wilting Galbana lilies lined the planter’s box that hung from the frame – their sweet scent more pronounced by their slow decay. Drace took them in – she breathed deeply the scent of tilled soil and country air.

 

As she peered downwards into the yard below, Drace saw a garden. It was vast – full of herbs, flowers and shrubbery that rivaled the Solidor Imperial gardens.

 

There sitting at a dark lacquered table were four people: a man with cropped, tow-colored hair, a dark-haired child – a boy - and a viera. The boy laughed, tossing his head back. Drace’s eyes grew wide when his face came into view.

 

It was Larsa!

 

He was slightly older – his cheeks lost some of their roundness and his chin more pointed. But, it was _her_ Larsa nonetheless.

 

“M-my Lord!” she cried out but her voice was like a Speartongue’s croak.   He looked up at her window at once.

 

“Drace!” Larsa shouted, dropping his saucer onto the table.   The man and the viera followed his gaze. Drace gasped, clutching the sill with a knuckle-white grip.

 

There in the garden, standing next to her young master was Noah…

 

~~~

  
“I remember asking you to make it quick,” Drace explained as Noah drew another quilt across her shoulders.   He sat then sat beside her, his hand resting near her. She felt her fingers twitch. “You made a face as if you had drank a sour potion. And then… darkness.”

 

“I am sorry…”

 

“You apologize for something you did not do?” she asked as Noah threaded his fingers through her own.

 

“Gabranth apologizes because he _was_ successful,” Larsa muttered from the corner of the room where he stood.   He busied himself by pouring her a cup of tea. He crossed the room and gave it to Noah, who gentle pressed it into her outstretched hands. The warm radiated throughout her aching body. Drace sighed, resting the mug on her lap.

 

“You _were_ gone,” insisted Noah. Their eyes met briefly, before he coughed and looked away. “B-but Vayne had Dr. Cid pull you back from precipice of death. And he had the 9 th ward intern you here at my family’s old homestead while I was away.”

 

“I dread to ask…” Drace began slowly.   “For what purpose…?”

 

“My brother was overly fond of power – absolute and incontrovertible,” added Larsa. He sat at the foot of her bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. An immutable expression crossed his bright gaze as he spoke the last word with equal venom and affection. “He hoped that you would be a suitable form of leverage over us.”

 

She digging her fingers into the mug, ignoring its scalding heat.  Rage coursed through her.  Years of hard work and loyal service - all of it forgotten the moment she spoke about against Vayne.  Drace drew a deep, shuddering breath as she tried to compose herself.

 

"What else...' she began, her voice measured and even.  "...what else have I missed?"


End file.
